


Closing Time

by pancake_surprise



Series: Check the Grin, You're in Love [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Married Life, Miya Four, Post-Time Skip, Slice of Life, Sunarin becoming Miyarin, atsumu and suna are bffs u can't change my mind, being petty but make it a love language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27480427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pancake_surprise/pseuds/pancake_surprise
Summary: How Sunarin becomes Miyarin.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Suna Rintarou, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Series: Check the Grin, You're in Love [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015891
Comments: 67
Kudos: 577
Collections: My favorite haikyuu fics, SunaOsa





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghostystarr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostystarr/gifts).



> I changed the name from Lay all Your Love on Me to ‘Closing Time’ 
> 
> If you haven’t read the story that precedes this one, all you need to know is that Suna and Osamu accidentally got drunk married two nights before Sakusa and Atsumu’s wedding.

Though he loathes to admit it, Suna can be as impulsive as Osamu or even Atsumu. What else would compel him to change to his train ticket from Friday morning to the middle of the night Wednesday? Impulsivity and maybe because he misses Osamu a little more than he wants to admit.

He doesn’t give Osamu a heads up about the change of plans. Even if he wanted to, by the time the deed was done, it was long after Suna knew Osamu went to bed for the night. Besides, he kind of likes the idea of surprising Osamu. They’re new to this whole husbands thing but they’re stumbling through it together, content with making it up as they go along. It’s not like they have any other choice. 

In romcoms, everything is destined to work out by the end of the 98 minute run time. No matter what trials and tribulations the characters face, they always get there in the end. There being the arms of their lover or partner or whatever. But this isn’t a rom-com no matter how much it feels like one sometimes. Real life romance is nothing like the plotlines of all the rom coms he and Atsumu have binged. Regardless, rom-com romance or not, Suna doesn’t know much about either. What does real life romance even look like? What shape does it take between two adults with very busy, very different lives? Practical romance, maybe? It’s unclear whether or not showing up unannounced and in the middle of the night in an attempt to surprise Osamu counts as romantic or is too over the top. But at least he can say he tried. 

The key to Osamu’s apartment has been on his key ring since Osamu gave it to him three years earlier when he moved into the place. He lets himself in, careful not to make too much noise, and wastes no time heading for the bedroom. His fingers itch to touch Osamu, tangible proof that the wait is over, that he’s home. 

Suna isn’t a poet but, if he was any good with words, his first poem would be dedicated to the sight of Osamu sleeping. Osamu, who is the ugliest sleeper Suna’s ever seen with his face smashed into the pillow and mouth hanging open. Yet it’s a sight that makes something fond and tender fill his chest, an image he’ll never grow tired of.

Untangling the timeline that starts with a middle school friendship and ends in love is a feat too great to undertake. Loving Osamu is like breathing; it’s automatic, uncomplicated, almost mundane. Loving Osamu just is. Using the word ‘love’ to describe Osamu may be new, but the love itself is anything but that. It’s woven into every playful jab and joke; it’s in Osamu’s rough, sleepy voice during every late night phone call; it’s in every ugly selfie that Suna sends to Osamu but would never send to anyone else. 

There’s a photo of the two of them on their wedding night on Osamu’s bedside table that wasn’t there the last time he was in town. It’s strangely endearing to see that it’s this photo that Osamu selected to be the last thing he sees at night and the first thing in the morning. Of all the photos he could have chosen: photos from high school, the opening of Onigiri Miya, or EJP games - hell - they even have some pretty damn adorable photos from Kiyoomi and Atsumu’s wedding. 

But no, this asshole chose the picture of the two of them throwing up a peace sign with Elvis. The Elvis that officiated their wedding after Jose Cuervo convinced them it was a good idea. It’s a quintessential Osamu thing to do - to select a photo that on the surface is nothing more than a drunken night out but is actually so much more than that.

They haven’t seen each other since their shot-gun wedding. In the month since then, neither of them were able to get away for a night, to hop on the train and spend a day together. Now that Suna is here, in Osamu’s bedroom, it almost seems too good to be true. He wastes no time slipping out of his track pants and tee-shirt and into bed. Suna scoots and wiggles closer until they’re close enough for him to throw an arm around Osamu’s waist. He doesn’t wake, but he does shift in tandem with Suna until their bodies slot together perfectly. Suna wrapped around Osamu, chest to back. 

Sleep is an elusive beast he has no hope of ever understanding. Insomnia is a real bitch like that. He would be content to just lay here, existing with Osamu until the sun rises. But with Osamu tucked carefully against his chest, Suna's arm curling around his waist, his eyelids grow heavy. Sleep comes easily. 

Suna jerks awake. He blinks rapidly, trying to adapt to both the blinding light and the shrill ringing in his ears. What kind of alarm- 

Something hits him in the gut, hard, and he goes tumbling over the side of the bed groaning as his side comes into contact with the cold wood flooring. That’s when it all clicks. The shrill noise isn’t an alarm, it’s Osamu screaming. 

“The fuck?” He groans. That's definitely going to leave a bruise. Or four. 

The screaming stops. “Rin?” 

“ _What_?” 

Osamu’s head pops over the edge of the bed. He squints at Suna like he’s not quite sure he believes what he’s seeing. “What’re ya doin’ here?” 

"What kind of question is that? I thought I was sleeping peacefully with my husband, but I guess I was wrong.” Suna shoots him a glare and rolls into a sitting position, rubbing the spot where his shoulder took the brunt of the fall. “That hurt, you know.” 

Osamu rubs the back of his neck. “Ah, sorry, I thought ya were a murderer. Shoulda checked before I kneed ya in the gut." 

“Why would a murderer climb in bed with you? How is that effective at all?”

“Hell if I know. In my defense, I was half asleep.” Osamu offers a hand, hauling Suna to his feet in one swift motion. 

Once up, Suna throws open his arms and glares. “I journey for hours, in the middle of the night-”

A smile tugs at the corners of Osamu’s mouth. “It’s a two-and-half-hour train ride.”

Suna ignores him. “-through the wind and the rain and the cold-”

“It’s almost summer.” 

“-to surprise my obnoxious husband, who I haven’t seen since our wedding, and he knocks me out of our bed and onto my ass. And on a cold floor, no less. If he doesn’t hug me in the next four seconds, I will turn around and go right back to Shizuoka without hes-” 

Osamu tackles him onto the bed, nearly knocking the wind out of him. “Better?” 

Undoubtedly. More than better. Even sleep disheveled, Osamu is, frankly, really hot. Add that to the fact Osamu is currently on top of Suna and, yeah, he’s doing just fine. 

Suna nods. “For the record, if I was going to murder you, I’d go with poison. No contest.” 

“Good to know. Are ya plannin’ on poisoning me for pushin’ ya out of bed?” 

Suna sniffs. “I’m undecided. Coffee might be enough to push the decision in your favor.” 

“Ya drive a hard bargain, Sunarin, but I think I might be able t’ swing that one.” 

Suna sits at the counter and swings his legs as Osamu walks through his morning routine with practiced ease. It’s calming, watching Osamu move from the fridge to the counter and back again, heating the water, grinding the coffee beans, cracking eggs over a bowl of chopped vegetables. Suna blanches. Osamu has another thing coming if he thinks Suna is going to eat a single vegetable. He’s _on vacation_. 

Osamu scoops the eggs between two plates and hands one to Suna, dropping a kiss on his cheek at the same time. 

“Been takin’ care of yerself? Eatin’ well? Sleepin’?”

Suna snorts. 

“I’m just a concerned husband, is all.” 

“Oh, right.” 

“Did’ya forget already? Am I that bad of a husband?” 

Suna tilts his head to the side. “I came a day early for a reason you know.” 

“And what reason was that?”

“That’s classified.” 

Osamu grins. “So _I am_ a good husband.” 

Suna hums. “Maybe. I’ll pass final judgment after a full night’s rest where I don’t end up on my ass on the COLD floor.”

Osamu smiles and a wave of affection crashes through his chest. It’s unfair how weak a smile makes him.

"What's that look for?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Suna says. 

"Ya were lookin' at me like ya like me or something." 

"Hmm. Doesn't ring a bell." 

"Or is it because ya love me?" Osamu drags out each syllable until Suna is half a second away from smacking him on the shoulder. Or kissing him. Probably both. 

“Yes, Miya Osamu, it’s because I love you. Very much I might add.” 

Osamu is adorable when he’s embarrassed; his face blooms bright red and his eyes dart around the room as if he doesn’t make eye contact then no one will be able to see him. 

“Yer a menace.” 

Suna smiles, satisfied knowing that he won this round of banter or flirting or whatever they’re doing. “If you say so.” 

After their quick breakfast, Osamu changes into his Onigiri Miya getup. All that’s missing is his apron and hat. It’s just a tee shirt and jeans but somehow it really does seem to suit him in a way that nothing else, not even a volleyball uniform, could. Suna fists a hand into Osamu’s tee-shirt and tugs, careful not to actually stretch out the jersey fabric or give it any unnecessary wrinkles. 

“Suits you,” he says because it’s true. And because he wants Osamu to know, even now nearly eight years after he made his initial decision not to pursue professional volleyball, that Suna is proud of him for following the path that made him happiest. But that’s a sentiment far too sappy for him to admit out loud and before 10 a.m. so he settles for kissing him instead and hopes he gets the message. 

Osamu laughs when Suna pulls away. “I’m wearin’ a black tee-shirt, not anythin’ fancy.” 

“I like it. You look good.” Suna runs his hands across Osamu’s chest, pretending to flatten out the wrinkles but he’s not fooling anyone. It’s just an excuse to get his hands on his husband. His very sexy husband.

“Oh, is that so?”

Suna flicks him on the forehead. “Don’t get cocky.” 

“Look who's talkin’.” 

Suna loves moments like these. The moment just before the lean in; when time stops and it’s just the two of them sharing the same space, breathing the same air. He revels in it. Revels in Osamu’s unwavering gaze, the warmth of Osamu pressed flush against him, and the feeling of lithe muscle where his palms rest on Osamu's waist. 

“Kiss me,” he says and Osamu does. 

Osamu kisses like he does everything else in life, with passion. Suna’s hands drop to Osamu’s hips, drawing them together until there’s no space left between them. Suna tangles a hand in Osamu’s hair, sighing into his mouth. He walks them backwards until Osamu’s back hits the wall then presses a thigh between his legs and reveling in the breathy moan it elicits. 

“Rin,” Osamu says. 

Suna hums. 

“ _Rin.”_

Suna comes back to reality and takes a step back. 

“We gotta stop now or I’m not going t’ be able to stop.” 

Suna’s arms drop back to his side. 

“I appreciate ya comin’ down to surprise me and I’m real sorry for kicking ya outta bed but I can’t call off of work last minute.” 

“Ok.” 

“Okay?” 

Osamu stares at Suna. Suna stares back. 

“Ok.” Suna sits down on the bed and picks his phone up off the side table. 

Osamu groans. “Stop that.” 

“Stop what?” 

“ _That.”_

“I’m just sitting here.” 

Osamu purses his lips and pouts, not buying it for a second. “What are ya gonna do while I’m gone?” 

“Bother Atsumu until he lets me come over.” 

Osamu blinks like that was the last thing he expected Suna to say.

“Better get going,” Suna checks the time. “Shouldn’t you be on your way to the shop by now?”

“Shit, yeah, uh, I’ll see ya later.” He shoves his baseball cap and shoes on but hesitates at the door. He looks back over his shoulder. “Ya know I’m real glad yer here, right Rin?” 

“Go to work, dumbass.” 

Osamu grins. “I love ya, too!” And then he’s gone, door slamming behind him. 

Suna heads for the bathroom once Osamu is gone. He takes his time showering, carefully scrubbing away the dirt and the grime from a night of traveling. Afterward, he doesn’t bother digging out his own clothes from his duffle bag, electing instead to rifle through Osamu’s closet for the comfiest clothes he can find. He tugs one of Osamu’s Onigiri Miya hoodies over one of his old ratty Inarizaki tee-shirts. 

Selecting which pair of sweats to steal is a whole other problem. On one hand, the gray joggers are undoubtedly the softest, coziest option. Truthfully, he wants to steal them, has wanted to for months. If he steals them for himself then he doesn’t get to stare at Osamu when he wears them. He pulls on a different pair instead. It’s a small sacrifice. 

Without Osamu, the apartment feels empty. Rarely is Suna here when Osamu isn’t and it takes only an hour for him to decide he’s not a fan. He lasts all of an hour before he’s antsy and bored. Desperate times call for desperate measures. 

He unlocks his phone, scrolling until he finds the contact he’s looking for. **Yo, asshole #2.**

_why hello to you too miyarin and ALSO im older. that makes me asshole #1._

Miyarin. Huh. It has a nice ring to it. **i haven’t changed my name.**

_well ya should. Miya is a great name. just ask omi_

**whatever you say**

_Not often I hear from ya at 9:47am._

Ugh, ten years of friendship has made him predictable. **busy today?**

_Nah._

**Want some company?**

_Sunarin, ya wanna hang out with little ole me? im flattered. when should me and omi be expectin’ ya?_

The thing is, Suna is already on their doorstep. The texts were a courtesy more than anything else. Suna would have barged into Atsumu and Kiyoomi’s apartment whether he said yes or not but the texts at least reduce the chance he sees something he’d really rather not.

He shoves his phone into his pocket and knocks twice. A very groggy, very confused Kiyoomi answers almost immediately. “Suna?”

Suna rubs the back of his neck. “Pardon the intrusion.” Kiyoomi is a good guy. If Suna feels bad about barging into Atsumu’s apartment with little warning, it’s for Kiyoomi’s sake only.

Kiyoomi steps aside to let him in just as Atsumu comes barrelling into the hallway, slipping on the wood floor and nearly crashing into the wall.

“Sunarin! How did ya get here so fast? Didn’t think we’d be seein’ ya ‘til this afternoon at least!” 

Suna shrugs and toes off his shoes. “I changed my plans last minute, got to Osamu’s early this morning.” 

“Awww, did ya surprise him?” Atsumu rests his hands over his heart. “Young love. Isn't it adorable, Omi?” 

Kiyoomi ignores him, shuffling out of the hallway and into the kitchen. Suna hopes for his sake that it’s to get some coffee because the man clearly needs it. 

They find their way to the couch, where sure enough, Kiyoomi returns with coffee or the three of them. To Suna's surprise, the coffee Kiyoomi hands him is already fixed the way he likes it. Atsumu takes a sip then crosses his hands behind his head and leans back into this chair, all-knowing grin on his face. It’s the same expression he wears whenever he thinks he has the upper hand in, well, anything. Suna would rather die than let Atsumu have the upper hand over him. Suna is the blackmail master. Atsumu isn’t even a student.

“Alrighty, ya gonna tell me what my brother did?” 

Suna’s brows pinch together. “Osamu?” 

Kiyoomi and Atsumu share a look. “Yes? Ya know, my only brother, the one ya married. At our wedding .” 

“We didn’t get married at your wedding. We got married the day before your wedding.” 

“Technicality. So what’d he do?”

“He didn’t do anything.” 

“Then why are ya here?” 

“Bored.” 

“Aww, Sunarin, yer like a lost puppy without Osamu, that’s so cute!” 

“Don’t ever say that again.”

“Oh yeah, definitely a lost puppy.” 

“Say it again and I’ll kill you without hesitation. Poison. Won’t know what hit you.” 

Atsumu laughs. “Awww, I was hopin’ for in the library with the candlestick. Ya can’t fool me yer all bark and no bite.” 

It turns out Kiyoomi has a knack for getting the ratio of orange juice to champagne just right to create the perfect mimosa. That’s how they spend their afternoon, with Kiyoomi shuffling back and forth from the kitchen every half an hour to whip Suna and Atsumu up a new glass. Kiyoomi sticks with water, explaining that someone has to maintain a brain cell that Suna can’t really argue with. By late afternoon, they’re more than a little tipsy. 

“So let me get this straight.” Atsumu flails a hand wildly in Suna’s direction. The mimosa in the aforementioned hand sloshes but miraculously doesn’t spill.

“Wait,” Suna takes a sip of his own mimosa. “There has to be a story behind this, why are we drinking mimosas out of mugs?” 

Kiyoomi sets down another mug for the two of them and takes a seat next to Atsumu. “The handle.” 

Suna downs the last of his mimosa and reaches for another. “Handle?”

“Atsumu is 50% less likely to spill something if it has a handle.” 

“That's oddly specific.” Suna tries and fails to hide a laugh. “Wow, wish we would have figured that one out in high school. Could have prevented a lot of messes.” 

“Omi! Stop spillin’ all my secrets! Is nothing sacred anymore?” 

Suna snorts. “I forgot what a lightweight you are. This is hilarious.” 

“Aw shut up Sunarin. I know yer just as tipsy as me. Yer just better at hiding it than me.” 

Atsumu is right, of course, but Suna doesn’t have to tell him that.

“And to think, I let ya into my house in yer time of need-” 

“Kiyoomi let me into the house.” 

“That’s true.” 

“Stop!” Atsumu’s mug sloshes. “Ya can’t gang up on me like this! That ain’t fair!” 

Suna shrugs and takes another drink. “We’re just telling it how it is.”

Atsumu drains his mimosa and reaches for the other. “Well, if that’s how yer gonna be, then I’ll leave so you two can bond or whatever it is brothers-in-law do. If ya need me I’ll be rearrangin’ Omi’s tee-shirt drawer. If yer gonna tease me then I’m gonna be petty.” 

“No,” Kiyoomi and Suna say at the same time, each of them gripping Atsumu by the shoulder and pushing him back into his chair.

“You can’t out petty me and you know it,” Suna says. 

“Don’t remind me, Sunarin, it’s one of the biggest disappointments of my life.” 

Suna smiles. “So don’t bother, since we know it’ll only lead to disappointment. Besides, I wanna know what you were saying earlier.” Suna shoots a look at Kiyoomi, trying to communicate that if he cares about his tee-shirt drawer then he’d better help Suna out. 

“Something about Osamu?” Kiyoomi offers. 

Atsumu looks between the Kiyoomi and Suna. Atsumu knows he’s being handled. Suna and Kiyoomi know Atsumu knows he’s being handled. Atsumu knows that they know that he knows he’s being handled but he takes another sip and sits back in his chair anyway. 

“As I was sayin’, ya come all the way from Shizuoka-”

“Uh-huh.”

“-to s’prise Samu-”

“Yep.” Suna pops the ‘p’ and takes another sip of his mimosa. 

“-which is adorable by the way-”

“Finally, some recognition!” 

“And not only does he knock ya on to yer ass, he had the gall to just leave ya and go into work?” 

Suna nods as he takes another sip.

“Like he’s, what, some kind of adult?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this but, you too, are an adult,” Kiyoomi says. 

“I’m gonna ignore that because we have more pressing issues here. Samu’s behavior is unacceptable.” Atsumu slams his empty mug onto the table. “Disrespectful is what it is. And I’m his brother and Sunarin’s best friend so that means it’s my job to kick his ass.” 

“I dunno if you need to kick his ass, I did break and enter,” Suna says. 

“It ain’t breaking and entering if ya have a key! Yer his husband! That makes it yer house too! Back me up here, Omi!” 

“Leave me out of this.” 

“Omi!”

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi says. A look passes between the two of them, a conversation spoken in eyebrow twitches and smirks. Atsumu looks at Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi looks at Atsumu. Kiyoomi sighs the sigh of a man defeated.

“yeeEES! Come on Sunarin, get in the car! Get in the car! Omi’s takin’ us to have a word with Mr. Onigiri Miya himself!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [find me on twitter!](https://twitter.com/pancakesurprisd)


	2. Chapter 2

They’re not halfway to Onigiri Miya before Suna realizes he made a mistake. It’s further confirmed when Atsumu kicks open the door muttering “I’m about to end this man’s whole career,” and with the conviction to do it. 

Sure, when they'd gotten in the car, was Suna on board with the plan? Absolutely. He'd never pass up a chance to lovingly harass a Miya. But now? Not so much. “Atsumu, that’s not-” 

Suna has been around these two long enough to know a lost cause when he sees one and this is a battle that he will not win. A mimosa tipsy Atsumu who is on a rampage to defend Suna’s honor-it’s irrelevant if it ever needed defending in the first place-is not an Atsumu that is stopped easily. 

He shoots a panicked look at Kiyoomi who responds with another long sigh and a shrug of the shoulders. Either Kiyoomi accepted Osamu’s fate before they even got in the car or he knows that he has no chance of stopping Atsumu in matters that involve his brother. 

Suna wants to turn around and run back to Osamu's place. To take cover under the thick duvet on Osamu's bed and await his inevitable return but he also accepts that he was the unwilling catalyst to whatever is about to unfold. He reluctantly slinks in the door behind Atsumu. 

Osamu isn’t at the counter when they walk in. For his sake, he hopes Osamu saw them coming and booked it for the back room. It’s what anyone with a solid sense of self preservation should do. 

“Oh, Samuuuu!” Atsumu prances to the counter and leans onto his elbows, waiting patiently for Osamu to appear. “Come out. Come out wherever you are.” 

Suna wrinkles his nose. “Don’t be creepy, Atsumu. Besides, he's _my_ husband. That makes him _my_ problem. Go sit over there with Kiyoomi and behave.” 

“I don’t have t’ listen t’ ya, Sunarin. Yer not my mom.” 

Suna hip-checks Atsumu as hard as he can just as the door to the backroom opens and Osamu saunters in. 

“Ugh, Suna!” Atsumu says, but Kiyoomi is already dragging him to the nearest available seat with a look in his eyes that says ‘I can only hold him back for so long.’ 

“Well, wouldya look what the cat dragged in.” 

“Is that any way to speak to your loving husband?” 

Osamu walks around the counter and pulls Suna into a hug. “Hi.” How Osamu manages to say so much with a single word is beyond Suna. Osamu isn't a big talker, but the words he does speak are laden with feeling. It's one word but it's packed with love, _love for Suna._

Suna smiles. “Hi.” 

Behind them Atsumu gags. They ignore him.

Osamu leans back in Suna’s arms but doesn’t let go, giving him a quick once over. “Wait. Are ya wearing my clothes? Is that my hoodie? And my sweatpants?” He hooks a finger under the hem of the hoodie and lifts it a few inches. “And my shirt?”

Suna shrugs. 

“Are ya wearin’ any of yer own clothes?”

“Briefs and socks.” 

Osamu laughs, ignoring Atsumu who is squawking on the sidelines for their attention. “What brought ya down here to my neck of the woods?” 

“Oh,” Suna glances over at Atsumu. “Atsumu’s here to seriously maim you." He pauses. "Now that I think about it, you should probably start running.” 

“Huh? I haven’t even stolen anything from his place in like a week. What’s got his panties in a twist?” 

“On my behalf," Suna adds. 

Osamu frowns. “Oh. Wait. What?”

“That’s right!” Atsumu escapes Kiyoomi’s watchful eye and stalks over. “If ya hurt my best friend ya deal with me, ya got that?” 

“How much have ya had to drink?” Osamu shoots a look at Kiyoomi who shrugs. He turns his attention to Suna. “Wait, did I do somethin’ t’ hurt ya?” Osamu’s brows pinch together, his gaze fixed at a spot over Suna’s shoulder like he’s reviewing the last twenty-four hours for any obvious transgressions. 

“Hey! I’m talkin’ t’ ya! I might have had a few mimosas but that was over an hour ago!” Atsumu shoves Suna out of the way. “And leave Sunarin out of this! It’s me yer dealin’ with.” 

“Whatdya mean leave Sunarin out of this? Yer not makin’ any sense!” 

“Yeah, well neither are you!” 

Suna groans and stumbles over to Kiyoomi and takes a seat opposite him while Osamu and Atsumu deck it out in the middle of Onigiri Miya.

“Probably should have cut him off at 2 mimosas,” Kiyoomi says apologetically. 

Suna waves the comment away. “Nah, it wouldn’t have made a difference. Nobody can stop them if they want to fight, except _maybe_ Kita or Aran.”

Kiyoomi hums. 

‘I have to admit though, it’s a lot more fun when I’m filming the fight and not the thing they’re fighting about.” 

Kiyoomi snorts. “I haven’t seen Atsumu this fired up since someone tweeted at Bokuto to say he was annoying.” 

Suna smiles. As loud as he may be, Atsumu is nothing if not loyal to those he cares about. “He’s a good friend.” 

Across the room, Atsumu digs a finger into Osamu’s chest and hisses something that Suna can’t quite make out. 

“Perhaps loyal to a fault,” Suna says. 

Kiyoomi smiles, wistful. “Yeah, he is.” 

“Suna Rintarou,” Osamu snaps, stalking over to their table. “Whatdya think yer doin’ bringing _this_ garbage into my restaurant? Are ya that mad at me because I had to go to work? To my restaurant? That I own?” 

“Excuse me?” Suna stands. “I came here for the onigiri and nothing else.” It’s far from the truth and Osamu knows it too but, fuck it, he’s mad now. “Didn’t know it was a crime.” 

“Yer full of shit too. Ya can’t fool me. Yer just as hot-headed and stupid as the two of us or ya wouldn’t have lasted this long. I already told ya, I can’t just call off or duck out early. It doesn’t work that way.” 

Atsumu stomps over. “That ain’t true, Osamu, and ya know it. Ya have a more than capable assistant manager for a reason!”

Osamu crosses his arms. “Leave him out of this.” 

“You know what?” Suna snaps. 

“What?” 

Suna shoves a finger in Osamu's face. “Fuck you, Miya! I’ll just take Atsumu out to dinner tonight since you’re so busy and hellbent on making sure everyone in the store knows what an inconvenience I am.” 

Osamu’s mouth snaps shut. “Rin.” 

“Nope, nuh-uh, don’t want to hear it right now. You can’t blame me for the actions of your brother, as misguided as they might have been. Actually, he wasn’t misguided because now I _am_ mad and happy to set Atsumu loose on you on my behalf.” 

“Rin, come on. Ya know I didn’t mean anything like that.” 

Suna does know Osamu didn’t mean it like that but this whole shitshow still irks him. He wanted to be _cute._ Just surprise Osamu a day earlier, throw him off his rhythm. He knew Osamu would still have to go into Onigiri Miya. He didn’t expect or want Osamu to take off work for him but fuck it, he’s mad. 

“Atsumu, come on, I’ll buy you fatty tuna. There’s a sushi shop around the corner.” 

It nearly gives Suna whiplash how fast the anger radiating from Atsumu transforms in to excitement. “Aww heck yeah, WAIT, let me check with Omi first!” He skips over to Kiyoomi. “Omi, do ya mind if-”

Kiyoomi looks at the scene before him. “Please, take him.” 

“Yer the best Omi!” Atsumu punches the air in triumph. “Let’s go Suna!” 

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. 

“Ya can take him anywhere ya want, but he's still _my_ brother.” 

Suna grins. "Funny. Because not only is Atsumu _my_ best friend. He's also _my_ brother-in-law. And I'm going to take my best friend turned brother-in-law out to dinner.” 

“Ya can’t just take my brother, he’s my brother. That means he’s _supposed_ to be on my side.” Osamu grabs Atsumu’s wrist and tugs. 

“Uh, guys-” Atsumu says. 

Suna reaches for Atsumu’s other wrist and tugs him back. 

“Atsumu is a grown man, if he wants to get fatty tuna with me, then he’s allowed to get fatty tuna with me.” 

“Ugh, fine. Take him. But, yer not slick, Rin. I know what yer tryin’ to do.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Osamu frowns. “Sure ya don’t.” To Osamu’s credit, he _does_ genuinely look put out by this whole mess. 

“Hurry up, Sunarin, I’m hungry, let’s go get some Sushi!” 

The dull twinge of a headache is already throbbing behind Suna's temple. Perhaps, he has made a mistake. 

Kiyoomi hangs back at the restaurant. He orders an umeboshi onigiri, eating it in silence and watching Osamu stomp around behind the counter. 

Osamu, who is absolutely throwing a temper tantrum, even if he won’t admit it to himself. 

Kiyoomi finishes his onigiri but doesn’t make any indication that he’s leaving. 

“Why didn’t ya go with them?” Osamu asks. 

Kiyoomi shrugs. “Seemed like it’d be quieter here.” 

Osamu snorts. “I can’t argue with ya on that front.” 

“Are you done being dramatic?” Onigiri Miya's assistant manager, Yuki, walks out from the back. 

“I’m afraid it’s chronic.” Kiyoomi shakes his head. “And genetic.” 

Osamu blinks then breaks into a fit of laughter. “That was a good one. I wasn’t expecting that.” 

Yuki groans. “For my sake then, I’m being completely selfish here, just go home.” 

“No, look at this place, it’s chaotic, I couldn’t leave ya here to deal with this on yer own.” 

Yuki pointedly looks from one corner of the little shop to the other. “I don’t know how to tell you this, our only customer for the past hour has been your brother-in-law.” 

“That’s true,” Kiyoomi says, nodding.

Osamu groans. “Ya couldn’t just play along? Gotta kick a guy when he’s already down?”

“Take a break, go home, I don’t care, just, get yourself together.” 

“I’m fine!” He stomps his foot for emphasis. 

“Right,” Yuki says slowly. “People who are fine totally stomp their feet and throw a fit because they’re jealous that their brother is hanging out with their boyfriend without them.” 

“I’m not jealous! And Rin is my husband!” 

Yuki blinks. “You’ve never mentioned that you’re married.” He groans. “Wait, stop. There’s a story there that I’m too tired to listen to right now.” 

Kiyoomi laughs. “You have a solid sense of self-preservation.” 

“The married part ain’t the point. The point is that I’m _not_ jealous.” 

He is jealous. Kiyoomi knows it. Yuki knows it. But he’ll admit that over his dead body. 

He can picture them now, Atsumu and Suna, eating sushi, drinking, and cracking jokes at his expense. Talking about every embarrassing thing he’s done since he was BORN. 

Kiyoomi smirks. “That’s a lie if I ever heard one.” 

“And just how would ya know?” 

“Your voice has the same lilt that Atsumu’s gets when he’s lying. Too easy.” 

Osamu doesn’t really know what to say to that one. “Fine, I’m jealous, so what?” 

Kiyoomi sighs. “Why do you guys insist on making everything harder than it has to be?” 

“And what’s that supposed t’ mean?” 

“It means you’re a stubborn asshole,” Kiyoomi deadpans. “Either stop complaining or do something about it.” 

“ _Thank you."_ Yuki throws his hands up in the air. 

Osamu knows he made a mistake. Or perhaps several mistakes. But he doesn’t get a chance to decide because Suna and Atsumu come barreling through the door, loud as all hell. That’s all it takes for all the frustration to flood back. 

Osamu crosses his arms over his chest. “Once again, look what the cat dragged in.” 

“Glad to see you’re still a ray of sunshine,” Suna says, hands on hips. 

“What’s that supposed t’ mean?” 

“You know exactly what I mean, Miya Osamu. I know you’re not that stupid.” 

“Alright," Osamu says."Ya, know what?” He crosses the room in two strides, invading the space around Suna. 

“What?” Suna says through clenched teeth.

“I _am_ gonna clock out early.” The fact that the store is only open for another ten minutes is irrelevant. “Come on Tsumu, let’s go do somethin’. Hang out. Brotherly love and all that.”

“Oh heck yeah! As long as you don’t mind Omi?”

Kiyoomi sighs and shoots Osamu a disappointed look. “If it’s what you want.” 

“Thanks, Omi!” 

Kiyoomi turns to Suna. “Does that mean it’s our turn to hang out?” 

Suna’s face pinches up like he’s trying to find a nice way to excuse himself. 

“Where are we goin’?” Atsumu says. 

Suna snaps out of it. “Excuse me but I believe _I_ was hanging out with Atsumu.” 

“Sorry, Sunarin but as they say, finders keepers losers weepers.” 

“How old are you?” 

“Older than you.” 

“This is bullshit.” Like earlier, Suna grabs one of Atsumu’s wrists and tugs.

“I’m hangin’ out with Tsumu now!” Osamu pulls on Atsumu’s other arm. “Give it up already!”

“Don’t raise your voice at us, Miya! Look what you’re doing to Atsumu!”

Atsumu looks rapidly between them expression flitting between wanting to jump into the fray and nervous. 

“Well, what didya expect! Ya gave him anxiety!” 

“Me! I gave him anxiety?” 

“Yes!” 

Unnoticed by Osamu and Suna, Kiyoomi slowly slides over to the mass. He clasps a hand around Atsumu's wrist when he's closer enough and yanks Atsumu out of the fray before booking it to the door. 

“Omi?” 

Kiyoomi grimaces. “They’re about to either murder each other or jump each other and I don’t want to bear witness to either of those scenarios.” 

“Good thinkin’.” Atsumu shudders. 

“Hey! Where do ya think yer takin’ Tsumu?” 

“Anywhere that’s not here.” Kiyoomi kicks open the door and herds Atsumu through. “By the way, you’ve lost your Atsumu privileges for a week.” 

“I repeat, you guys do know that I’m a fully grown adult, right? I can make-” 

Kiyoomi cuts him off, curling an arm protectively around his shoulder. “Come on Atsumu, I’ll get you some ice cream on the way home.” 

“Oh hell yeah! Can I get sprinkles on top? 

Kiyoomi nods. “Whatever you want.” 

“Yes! Thanks, Omi! Have I mentioned how much I love ya lately?” 

“That’s the seventh time today.” 

“What! Only seven? That’s...” Atsumu trails off as the door shuts, leaving Osamu and Suna alone in the empty shop.

It’s silent. 

“What just happened?” Osamu says. 

“I feel like I just stepped off a rollercoaster.” 

They stand there, not moving, a mere few feet away from each other. Osamu scratches his head, trying to figure out what the fuck to do next.

“If I could interrupt for just one moment-”

Osamu jumps. “Ah, Yuki, I forgot ya were here.” 

“Yes, I know. Anyway, I don’t know-” he gestures vaguely between them. “-what this is but I’m heading out. The kitchen is clean, closing tasks finished. Make sure you lock up when you leave, boss. And please, if only for my sanity, take the day off tomorrow. I’ll be here, trying to forget that my boss got married in secret.” 

Osamu’s gapes, unable to form a coherent reply. 

Yuki turns to Suna. “Tie him down to the bed for all I care, just keep him out of my hair. I can’t handle him moping around all day again.” 

A sly grin spreads across Suna’s face. “Moping, huh? Don’t worry, you won’t be hearing a peep out of him if I have anything to say about it.” 

“And that’s my cue.” Yuki turns on his heel and bustles out of the shop.

Osamu reaches for Suna's hand. “What were we even fighting about?” 

“Hell if I know. Something stupid, probably."

“Yeah, that sounds about right."

"Seems to be a theme for us." 

Osamu snorts. "Yeah. Hey, Sunarin?"

"Yeah?" 

"Can I take ya home?" 

Suna smiles. “Please.” 

Suna wakes slowly, in a warm bed and very much not on the floor. It’s of little comfort, however, when he rolls over to find the other half of the bed cold and empty. He blinks a few times as if the empty bed, his sleep addled brain still not quite caught up with the sight in front of him. He rubs his eyes as if Osamu will appear if he wills it so. 

It works. 

Osamu gently pushes open the bedroom door with his foot, two steaming mugs in hand. He smiles at Suna. Genuine. Warm. Full of love. 

“What’s that face for?” Osamu says. 

Suna frowns. “What face?” 

“You were pouting, don’t deny it.” 

“You’d pout too if you woke up and your husband, who you traveled all night through the wind and the rain to visit, was missing from his side of the bed.” 

Osamu huffs a laugh and sets the mugs down on the bedside table. “Have I mentioned lately how much I love ya? I had a feelin’ ya were going to wake up soon, thought ya might want something warm to sip on.” 

Suna groans. "You're so cute sometimes, I just want to evaporate." Suna pats the spot next to him. "Get back in bed already.”

Osamu laughs again and flops on top of Suna. “As ya wish.” 

“Ugh, Samu!” 

“Ya can try to push me off all ya want Sunarin but I’m real comfortable where I am and have no plans on movin’ for the foreseeable future.” 

Suna stops fighting and goes limp. “Ugh. A _menace_.” 

“I’m _yer_ menace.” 

Suna hums. “Yeah. Yeah, you are.” 

“What are ya thinkin’ about?” 

“Huh?” 

“Ya have yer thinkin’ face on. What are ya thinkin’ about?” 

“I think I’m tired of being called Sunarin by you Miyas.” 

Osamu startles and looks up at him. “What?” 

Suna nods. “Yeah, I was thinking we should come up with a new name instead.” 

“O-kay,” Osamu says slowly. “Did ya have anything in mind?” 

“Yeah, actually."

"Lay it on me." 

"What do you think of the name, Miyarin?” 

"Wait."

Suna waits patiently while Osamu finishes whatever mental math he's working on. 

"Miya-rin?" 

"Yes." 

"Like Miya but with Rin?" 

Suna smiles. "Uh-huh." 

" _Miyarin_." It falls off his tongue like a prayer. 

"Are you going to tell me if you like it? Or are you going t-"

Osamu surges forward, crashing their lips together in an uncoordinated kiss. It's messy but Suna can't help but smile into it anyway. 

"I love it," Osamu says between kisses. "Miyarin." 

Suna grins. "And I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [find me on twitter!](https://twitter.com/pancakesurprisd)

**Author's Note:**

> ghoststarr thank u always for all your help
> 
> twitter @pancakesurprisd


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